


Let's kiss afresh, as when we first begun

by amandajoyce118



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, F/M, Sequel, rom com
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-19 18:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7372129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandajoyce118/pseuds/amandajoyce118
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma and Fitz continue to be the most sought after couple in Hollywood. A sequel to Kissing in the Rain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_“Give me a kiss, and to that kiss a score; Then to that twenty, add a hundred more: A thousand to that hundred: so kiss on, To make that thousand up a million. Treble that million, and when that is done, Let's kiss afresh, as when we first begun.”_

_-Robert Herrick_

-o-

It wasn’t that they had set out to hide things from the people around them, not really. Hiding your personal life from the rest of the world was just second nature for actors. By the time Fitz and Jemma reached an understanding that they were more than friends, the idea of going public with a relationship just didn’t occur to them. (Said understanding was punctuated by a lot of laughing at how ridiculous they’d been and plenty of lip-to-lip and skin-to-skin contact.) To the public and to people in the industry, they were friends, a relationship born by years of being on the same movie sets, but cemented when their television series was canceled, and they were supposed to go their separate ways.

Jemma did as she said she would for the first few months after they crossed the event horizon - she seeked out projects that kept her far from Fitz. She spent a week on a shoot as a detective chasing a dangerous conspirator who was killed 20 minutes into the movie to give the main character the push she needed to pursue a lead. She spent three weeks on an independent film that shot in the middle of nowhere in Louisiana and made her run up her phone bill calling Fitz every night to see what he was working on. Or at least, that’s why she pretended to be calling him. She even spent a solid week reading pilot scripts, none of which she wanted to work on.

Fitz did the same, trying to respect her wishes. He shot a horror movie where he finally got to play a villain and decided the experience wasn’t really for him. The amount of times he was told to just be a little bit creepier and the things he had to say to the other actors in the script made him take long hot showers every night to wash the experience out of his hair. The phone calls from Jemma afterwards meant he was following it up with cold showers too. She had been the one to say she didn’t want to work with him anymore and that they should keep their professional and personal lives separate. He just _missed_ working with her.

But after working together on and off for so long, no casting director was going to keep them apart forever. They should have known.

They also should have known that working together would be very different for them once they’d passed the point of no return.

-o-

 

_Annie and Frank_

_-o-_

_“I never understood why anyone would have sex on the floor. Until I was with you and I realized: you don't realize you're on the floor.”_

_-_ _David Levithan_

-o-

Fitz scratched absentmindedly at the stubble on his cheek as he watched Jemma’s hair get twisted back into a complicated style that involved additional extensions, curls, and, from what he could tell, more hair product than would ever have existed in the “old west.” It was all pulled carefully back and secured in place with a single pin so that it would fall just so when the piece was removed. Jemma was ranting quietly, for about the twentieth time, about the historical inaccuracies in the movie they were making.

Nose twitching as he tried not to smile at her, or worse, kiss her to make her stop with the same points she’d already made to him repeatedly, he ducked his head and pretended to be examining his belt, acting like he was worried he’d missed a loop.

_Be professional. Be professional. Be professional._

He repeated the litany in his mind while she talked. It had been much easier to be professional when he didn’t know what it was like to be completely _unprofessional_ with Jemma Simmons in the privacy of one of their apartments. It had also been much easier to be professional with her since they’d spent months not working in close contact with each other, only being paired up to do a few press days, and when you’re in front of a complete stranger answering questions about a movie, you don’t usually stop to think about spending quality time with your girlfriend.

_Girlfriend._

He still didn’t quite believe it.

He glanced back up and tried to straighten his posture when he caught Jemma watching him with a smile on her face. The makeup artist in front of her gave her cheek a final swipe to give her just the right amount of “sun kissed” for a woman who did a lot of target practice outside in the days before sunscreen was available at every corner store.

“Ready,” the makeup artist told the director, scrambling out of view of the cameras.

“You guys want to run through blocking one more time?” The man behind the monitors asked them.

Fitz chewed on the corner of his mouth and shook his head while Jemma blew out a breath. “No,” Fitz said shortly. They had stretched the limits of professionalism by stalling long enough. “I think we’re good.”

 _Good_ wasn’t exactly how Fitz would describe his feelings at the moment. He hadn’t done a scene like this one in a very long time. He’d been lucky enough that there was no time for scenes like this in the movies he’d done recently and that a kiss or two at the climax of the film had been enough.

“Yep.” Jemma nodded her head, careful not to jostle her hair. “Good.” She took two steps back to place her feet on her mark without even looking at the floor. Fitz moved to the doorway of the set that replicated the “powder room” of an old house they had been shooting in on location. It had been expanded by another meter or so, but the space was still cramped with shelves and chairs and tables. Add the cameras in front of them, and he’d never felt so closed in before.

“Alright. Action!”

Jemma immediately went into the headspace of Annie. Fitz could tell the moment she shifted as her posture became just a little less perfect and her head tilted just so as she picked up the basin of water and set it on top of the vanity in the small room. Fitz sauntered in like the cocky sharpshooter he was supposed to be, and she spun on him, letting loose with the beginnings of an argument that Fitz, like Jemma, was sure was mostly fictional. It was meant to be a typical lover’s quarrel between the married couple. Every step he took toward her as “Frank” countered her arguments and caused the heels of his boots to click on the wooden floor. He was momentarily glad they wouldn’t have to go the whole nine yards for this scene. Getting the boots on had been difficult enough. Getting them off would be a pain.

“I don’t like the beard,” Jemma snapped at him with the drawl she had been working weeks to perfect. She didn’t quite sound like someone who had spent their formative years on a tour of the wild west with Buffalo Bill, but she had become much better at feigning American accents than she used to be.

“I was jus’ tryin’ it out,” Fitz remarked casually, fighting the urge to wrinkle his nose at the Irish affectations he tried to employ. He was of the opinion that he was the worst at adding an Irish lilt to his words of any of the actors he’d known, but he didn’t want any critics taking aim at his his natural voice. “Hasn’t even grown in yet.”

“It hides your face.”

She rolled her eyes when she scoffed, and it was such a Jemma gesture of annoyance, that Fitz had to dial his smirk back a bit.

He nodded to the old fashioned razor on the shelf. “Are you goin’ to make me shave it off?”

“I could _make_ you. You know how good my aim is.” Jemma smiled suggestively as her gaze flickered down his form.

“You want it gone so badly, you do it.” He took a seat in the chair Annie used to do her makeup before the vaudeville shows, removing his hat and placing it on her vanity before crossing his arms over his chest expectantly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the cameras shift slightly to get a new angle.

Jemma’s smile stayed in place as she grabbed the razor and all of the shaving materials from the shelf next to him. The director would likely grab closeup shots of hands and the razor moving across skin with doubles, if he hadn’t already, but for the rest, she would actually shave off the stubble he was sporting. It wasn’t a full beard, and there had been some talk about it being a safety risk from producers, but Fitz had told them all it would be fine. What he didn’t tell them was that he and Jemma had already practiced this particular scene on their own a few times when they had breaks from shooting. The warm lather and Jemma’s hands on his cheeks made him take in a quick breath, his heart rate skyrocketing. When he and Jemma had gone through the mechanics of the scene in his apartment, it hadn’t been in front of anyone, and it had always ended the same - and not in a way they could repeat on set. Jemma licked her lips, meeting his eyes before she picked up the razor and got to work.

It hadn’t occurred to him how awkward this would be. No dialogue, just Jemma carefully shaving his face as they exchanged looks that were meant to create the heat in the scene while nearly everyone else involved in the production of the movie looked on. He had been more worried about what happened after the shaving, but this was torture. He anticipated the music that would accompany it would be truly horrific, and it almost made him laugh, but he forced it down. They would only have one chance to do this part of the scene, so he had to make it work.

Jemma rinsed and wiped the razor carefully after another swipe before leaning back in, her breath fanning over his cheek. He closed his eyes briefly before snapping them open again to try to watch her face as she worked. The slight crinkle to her brow and the way she set her mouth as she focused made him grin.

“Don’t smile,” she chided, even though they weren’t supposed to speak, “unless you want to get nicked.”

He obeyed, uncrossing his arms, hands braced on his knees instead, letting his gaze drift to the dip in her neckline created by the way she was leaning before travelling back up to her face. Jemma gave a frustrated huff when she straightened from her bent position. By his estimation, she had about half of his face done, which was the point the scene was supposed to escalate to, so he waited for her to rinse the blade again, before he reached out for her waist and pulled her to his lap, tilting his chin farther up.

“Better?”

She hummed in agreement and he wondered if they would cut all of the audio from this completely or leave it in.

He waited while she completed the job, their eyes meeting repeatedly at this close range, and every time she shifted to reach the basin to rinse the razor, Fitz mentally cursed the blocking of the scene, wishing one of them had come up with a better suggestion. When it was done, Jemma gently patted his cheeks with a towel, one that was likely more plush than what Annie and Frank would have had.

“And there you are,” she whispered as she pulled the towel away, tossing it somewhere behind her. She poked him in the chest with one finger. “I like this much better.”

He was supposed to push her hand away and make a joke, but instead, he made the decision to grab it and twine their fingers together. Jemma raised her eyebrows slightly, indicating her surprise at the change, but she kept going, reaching up with her other hand to run her fingers over his cheek. She smiled when Fitz pulled their joined hands up and kissed her knuckles lightly before using his grip to pull her closer, cradling her hand to his chest.

“Do you want to add the new bit to the show tonight?”

Jemma shrugged, her eyes roving his face.

“We can do whatever you want,” Fitz insisted.

“Anything?”

“Sure.”

Jemma closed the rest of the distance and placed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, crushing their hands between them.

“I don’t want to talk about the show,” she whispered before kissing him again.

Fitz tried very hard to make sure they didn’t topple in the chair, but Jemma continually pushing up against him as the kisses got more and more heated was making it very difficult to be sure they stayed in the right position. Reaching one hand up when she had stopped to take a breath, he removed the pin from her hair and tossed it aside, giving the stereotypically sexy moment the director wanted even though not a single article of clothing had been removed yet.

Jemma blinked down at him, and Fitz didn’t feel like wasting the time reminding himself that they were on a movie set anymore. With her flushed cheeks and her mussed hair filling his eyeline and the way she was breathing against him, it felt more familiar than most of their other work in the movie had been. When he leaned back in to kiss her again, Jemma maneuvered herself to give a little more space between them, quickly pulling his shirt from where it had been meticulously tucked by the costume department. Bunching the fabric of her blouse between his fingers, Fitz had to force himself to not tear off any of her clothing. Jemma didn’t have that same restriction though as she went to work on his belt, her fingers nimbly removing the leather strip without her having to stand. Fitz was almost certain they were supposed to stand at some point, but he didn’t really care when Jemma was dropping the belt onto the floor and pulling his lower lip into her mouth.

In fact, he decided as everyone else in the room faded away, he was just going to keep following her lead.

It was Jemma who shifted, pulling him to his feet with her, and shuffling until her back hit the vanity table. Fitz pressed into her as her fingers returned to his waistband, curling around the edge, but not moving to the button. Luckily, her kissing was enthusiastic enough to swallow the groan he made. His hands moved to her back, then slowly down to her hips, ready to lift her onto the table.

“And, cut!”

Jemma gently leaned her head back from him, giving him a look that was clearly meant to convey that she knew just how much he was enjoying the scene. Fitz squeezed his eyes shut and rolled his shoulders as if shaking off the character. Thankfully, she took her time walking around him when he stepped back, and moved discreetly to stand in front of him as the director rattled off instructions he was only half listening to until he got himself under control.

“Touch ups on makeup and reset Jemma’s hair. We’ll go again from the towel and through to Jemma up on the vanity. Make sure you hit the basin on the next take.”

“You alright?” Jemma muttered to him out of the corner of her mouth before hair and makeup reached them.

“Oh, sure.” Fitz rolled his eyes.

They were going to be doing this for hours. He might just die.

She very carefully covered the mic nestled in the collar of her shirt and Fitz did the same under a pretense of stretching.

“Think of it as foreplay,” she teased him.

That didn’t help him at all.

-o-


	2. Chapter 2

_ Beca and Jesse _

_ -o- _

_ “Sex: the thing that takes up the least amount of time and causes the most amount of trouble.” _

_ -John Barrymore _

-o-

“Ow, ow, ow.” Jemma tried not to yank her head away from the shelf behind her, but it was instinct. She had just snapped her head away from the sharp pain she felt, only to discover she couldn’t get very far. Luckily, Fitz realized what happened before she tried again and grabbed her chin with one hand to hold her in place.

“Hang on,” he muttered, craning his neck to look behind her, and reached into her hair with his other hand.

He already had the strands of her hair untangled from the shelf behind them before any of the production assistants came up to help.

“Thank you,” she murmured gratefully, rubbing the back of her head where her hair had pulled sharply just as Fitz went to smooth it down. She laughed lightly when he yanked his hands away from her as their director, an up and coming filmmaker named Elena, came to check on them.

“Necesitas ayuda?” She asked before shaking her head. “Sorry. I forget. You need help?” She tended to yo-yo between the Spanish and English languages, more used to working in Spanish cinema than English.

“No, Fitz got it,” Jemma said, even as the back of her head throbbed. “We didn’t pull any hair out, did we?” She turned awkwardly on the table so they could all check the back of her head. She had already done enough damage to her hair by dying it a darker color than her natural brown and the amount of product they were putting in it on every shoot to make it look like her character didn’t care about her hair was ridiculous. She didn’t need to have yanked out a clump of it on top of everything else. The very thought made her shudder. She didn’t used to care so much about what she looked like. 

“No, you’re good. Take a minute. Then, we go again.” Elena gestured to one of the set design team members. “You, cover up those nails. We don’t want Jemma bald.”

Jemma hopped down from the table, taking Fitz’s hand when he offered it, and not letting go as they moved out of the way of the crew members examining the shelf. She squeezed his fingers. 

“She was telling the truth, right? You’d tell me?”

Fitz gave her a half smile and swung her hand to turn her around. “Let me look.”

She closed her eyes as she removed her fingers from his and focused on the gentle pressure of his fingertips carding through her hair and checking her scalp. Sighing, Jemma forced herself to open her eyes back up when he reassured her that everything looked fine, and her gaze darted around the location where they were shooting.

“Beautiful, as always,” Fitz murmured low enough that no one would hear him.

Was anyone going to think it was strange that she had held Fitz’s hand and asked him to double check? 

But even the PA’s weren’t paying any attention to them, so she allowed herself a moment to relax as his hands left her hair, skimming down her back to her waist before they left her completely, leaving her a little chilly even in a room full of electronics equipment and bright lights.

“So…” Fitz trailed off as Jemma turned to face him and she found him watching the crew members capping off nails and screws that were sticking out the side of the shelf, something they should have done before asking someone to lean against it. “Next take, we won’t put your head all the way back, then?” If they were meaner people, he would probably be encouraging her to sue someone.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Jemma narrowed her eyes. “Maybe we should put you on the table.”

“Yeah, I don’t think - logistically speaking - I mean-” He waved his hands at his hips, then hers, struggling with what to say, and she allowed him to flounder for a moment when he then placed his hands at the height of the table and shook his head.

“I know, Fitz.” She rolled her eyes fondly. “I’m fairly certain we’d have figured that out by now.”

He turned back to her and reached up, tapping one of the spiked studs jutting out of her earlobe before running his thumb down her cheek surreptitiously. “It’s those things that are really dangerous.”

“Oh, really?” She batted her eyes at him excessively to let him know she was teasing. “And here I thought you would love this new look. I was thinking about adding the spikes to my wardrobe.” She tried to imagine her usual preppy attire paired with sharp edged jewelry, and she stifled a giggle. The press would probably have a field day. “Spikes on everything.”

“Sure. And poke a guy in the eye every time I-”

“We’re ready for you!”

Jemma gave a little hop of surprise when one of the PAs was suddenly standing in front of them. 

“Of course,” she responded, playing off the jump by putting a little bounce in her step as she sped back over to the table.

“We’ll go from… ‘this is a bad idea,’” Elena told them as she sat back down in her chair and picked up her headphones on the other side of the cameras.

Jemma nodded and braced her palms on the edge of the table as she backed into it. She was feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline that came before filming now that she wasn’t worried about tearing out her hair. Strangely, she felt more comfortable on this set than she had the last one. Maybe she just wasn’t meant to do westerns.

Just as she went to hoist herself up on the table, Fitz gripped her waist to take some of her weight, helping her settle on the surface.

“Thanks.” She looked at a button in the middle of his shirt instead of his face.

“Yep.”

Her knees bumped Fitz’s hips and her fingers twitched on the surface of the table.

Okay, maybe she wasn’t more comfortable with this, but it was getting a little easier.

“And, action!”

“This is a bad idea,” Jemma whispered just as Fitz leaned in.

“The worst,” he agreed before his lips pressed into hers. 

But when his lips moved over hers, one hand cupping the back of her head as the other encircled her waist and started to lean her back, Jemma wrapped her legs around him, making it clear that Beca didn’t have anymore protests. Really, she (and Beca) would have been content to kiss him all day and see how many different ways she could make him moan with that activity alone, but there was a script to follow, so she made sure to run her hands over his chest, careful not to catch her fingernails on the fabric. She had just started unbuttoning his shirt when there was a crack behind them.

“OMIGOD!”

The voice was shrill and loud and didn’t sound like anyone Jemma knew, so she disconnected from Fitz’s mouth, leaning to the side to see what the noise was, only to discover that the door to the room they were filming in was wide open, a girl standing there with her laptop bag over her shoulder. The sound must have been the doorknob hitting the wall.

“I’m so sorry!” The girl yelped as Fitz scrambled off Jemma and pulled the buttons on his shirt closed. “I was looking for the office for the campus radio station? I’m supposed to fill out paperwork for my internship?”

Elena sighed so loudly from the director’s chair that Jemma could hear it where she was perched on the table half way across the room. They were already a day behind schedule, and Elena hated anything that made them slow down.

“Closed,” Elena snapped, gesturing to the assistant director to handle the problem.

Mack, a large man who cut an imposing figure, crossed to the girl quickly with a gentle smile on his face and a soothing voice as he led her out of the room. “Sorry about this. They’re temporarily relocated in the next wing. This room is closed for the next three days for a movie shoot.”

“Ooooh. What are you filming?”

“Top secret. Sorry.” Mack firmly closed the door in the girl’s face and pulled his radio from the clip on his belt. “Someone better explain to me how a girl just wandered into our closed set.”

There was a lot of crackling through the tiny speaker and confusion as the security guards stationed in the closed wing of the building had no real explanation. Jemma blew out a breath and waited for the chatter to die down, her gaze flickering between Mack, Elena, and Fitz, not sure if they were going to start again or not. Though they were filming on a university campus where classes were in session, they had a very strict schedule for which areas they could use when, and no students were supposed to be in the way.

When Mack finally clicked off his radio, he shrugged helplessly at Elena.

“Apparently, someone thought she was an extra when she asked about the radio station. They didn’t know.”

Elena said a few choice words in Spanish, then took a breath and gestured for Jemma and Fitz to start again. 

Jemma closed her eyes for a moment, trying to remember exactly how she was supposed to be positioned as she said her line, moving her knees just enough to fit against Fitz’s hips and bracing her palms on the table again. She could feel it when his muscles pulled tight in his sides as he changed his posture for the scene. Snapping her eyes open as the director called action, she said hoarsely, “this is a bad idea.”

Fitz’s lips quirked in a tiny smirk as he leaned closer, making Jemma’s breath catch in her chest,  and he told her, “the worst,” just before kissing her, a little softer than he had on the previous take.

Jemma made a noise of frustration when he didn’t pick up the same speed and intensity as he had before, scooting herself a bit closer to the edge of the table, reaching out for Fitz’s shirt, her fingers slowly running across his chest and moving to the top buttons to match his pace. She had three buttons undone before Fitz pulled back from her for air, one hand moving to cup the back of her head, the other drifting to her back as before. The pressure of his mouth on hers increased for the next round of kissing as she wrapped her legs firmly around his waist and used her own weight to pull him gently towards her, allowing gravity to guide her back to the table. For about ten seconds she wished there weren’t cameras around, but she pushed the thought aside and focused on anticipating Fitz’s movements for the work at hand. As she thought he would, Fitz tightened his grip on her to make sure she didn’t hit the shelf or go flailing on the table, forcing him to bend over her and allowing her to push the fabric of his button-down from his shoulders, one arm at a time so he didn’t let go completely.

She was too preoccupied with kissing him and the feel of his weight beginning to settle over her that she didn’t make sure the shirt fluttered the way it was supposed to, but she did make sure to allow him to pull back enough to ask her, “how long does your playlist go?”

“Another fifteen minutes, so you better make them count,” she panted, reaching down to pull her t-shirt over her head.

When she was with Fitz at home, this was her favorite part, pulling her shirt up to find him staring at her like she was the whole world and he couldn’t get enough. On a film set though, this was the worst part, feeling like everyone was watching her, like everyone was judging her for having too many freckles or for not being a larger cup size, or a million other things. But just like she had for much of the rest of the scene shot so far, she pushed those thoughts out of her head and pulled the fabric up and over. 

And then couldn’t move it as a loose thread got caught in one of the same spikes she and Fitz had been talking about earlier.

“You have got to be joking,” she muttered, her voice muffled since her head was caught in the cotton fabric. She tried to pull the shirt back down, but realized immediately that was a bad idea when she felt the tug in her earlobe. “Fitz,” she whined, “help.”

“I would find this hilarious if I wasn’t afraid I was going to rip your ear off,” Fitz tried to joke with her, but it only made her huff in annoyance. She squeezed her eyes shut as Fitz’s fingers pressed between her top and her head, trying to see just what was wrong without hurting her.

She felt another pair of hands join Fitz’s as they delicately located the offending thread and removed the earring so she could pull the shirt back down. A member of the costume department was there, shears in hand to snip the loose thread and secure the earring back in place. If anyone wondered why she kept her legs wrapped firmly around Fitz during the entire process, holding him close while someone had scissors next to her head, no one said anything.

The next take saw Jemma slide so far forward on the table that she nearly fell into Fitz. The next had Fitz getting his watch caught on her belt, and she was starting to worry what Beca’s taste in accessories was going to mean for the rest of the shoot. But the next allowed them to progress to the removal of her jeans at least, where Fitz pulled on them a little too enthusiastically and ended up toppling a section of shelving in his gusto.

Fully clothed again, Jemma sat in her chair while the prop guys made sure there was no damage done.

“Maybe,” she said to Fitz so softly that no one else would hear her, “they just aren’t meant to have sex in the radio station. Seems incredibly irresponsible to me anyway.”

He chuckled in response.

“I mean, it would be like us being told we were breaking for lunch and trying to sneak in a quick shag in a trailer.” Fitz’s laughter abruptly cut off and Jemma tried not to smile. She couldn’t believe that she had gone years without realizing how easy it was to wind him up or how much he wanted her. “What?” She asked him innocently.

“Very unprofessional,” was all he managed to squeak out.

Jemma smirked.

So did one of the PAs walking by, which made Jemma promptly stop joking about shagging her boyfriend at work when there were so many people around who could hear everything. It didn’t stop her from following through on the tease once they were finished filming the scene though.

-o-


	3. Chapter 3

_ Bianca and Wesley _

_ -o- _

_ “I want to do with you what spring does with cherry trees.” _

_ -Pablo Neruda _

-o-

It took Fitz nearly three weeks to convince Jemma that she should audition for the role after he’d seen the sides. It was different from roles she’d taken on in the past, and he knew she’d love it, as long as she didn’t mind repeatedly ending up in her underwear.

“Have you read the book yet?” was met with a shrug and then a smile, so he knew she liked it, even if she still said no to an audition.

“Just because it says that in the script doesn’t mean she’s actually ugly,” Fitz told her with an eyeroll when Jemma scoffed at the midpoint of the pages he’d given her. “It’s a metaphor, Jemma!”

“Fitz, no one is going to believe I’m a highschool student!” Jemma snapped at him just days before her agent had to give the casting directors her CV for the audition. But she told him she sent in her information anyway when he reminded her that there were plenty of actors older than her who were still playing high school students on television every week.

They were halfway through their work as Beca and Jesse when Jemma found out the studio wanted her for the role of a high school senior, and she found the entire thing hilarious. Fitz told her it was because she was smart and funny and could carry the entire film. He didn’t tell her he had just found out he’d been cast in the film as well, though she did wonder why he’d started growing his hair out again and why he had a sudden interest in weight training.

“Just tryin’ to increase my strength. I keep gettin’ offered action roles that I can’t do.”

Once they got to their first table read though, she knew better, and she was more than a little annoyed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She snapped at him. 

Fitz didn’t want to tell her that he was afraid she didn’t want to keep doing movies with him since they were trying so hard to keep their relationship under wraps, so he just shrugged. “Surprise?”

Even while rolling her eyes at him, Jemma smiled, and their director, who would also be playing her father, caught the exchange.

“And that - that right there - that is Wes and Bianca. Perfect.”

-o-

Fitz flipped through the pages in front of him while he sipped from a bottle of water. He couldn’t remember just which of the more risque scenes they were shooting that afternoon; there had been too many to keep up with. Three rewrites during shooting so far, and his head was starting to spin. The first copy of the script had too many location shoots for the small budget. The second, the studio decided the sex scenes needed to be trimmed. The third, the studio thought the relationship between the main characters didn’t progress naturally.

“Naturally,” Jemma had scoffed. “What are they expecting from enemies with benefits?”

Jemma was perched in her chair next to him, flipping through the pages of her script as well. She had highlighted multiple sections in three different colors, had tabs throughout, and even penned notes in the margin. 

“Jemma?” He asked out of the corner of his mouth, trying not to draw attention to them.

“Hmm?”

“What scene are we shooting?”

She turned to him in surprise, and he could just see the laughter dancing in her eyes. “You don’t remember?” Raising an eyebrow at him when he shook his head as he tried to find his place in the script, she told him, “106. I can’t believe you don’t remember. You teased me about it for a week straight after I got the part. And Phil did mention it before lunch.”

“Oh!” Fitz, despite being very familiar with the particular activity in the scene, had never actually had to film a scene like it before, and he had secretly been hoping it was going to get cut when the studio wanted less sex scenes. He wasn’t entirely sure how to fake a scene like - he turned the page to find the corresponding lines, zipping through the directions and the dialogue as quickly as possible - that.

 

_ A door slams off screen. _

 

_ Wesley _

_ Oh, shit. _

 

_ They are interrupted and Bianca, slightly dazed, scrambles to put her clothes back on, dislodging Wesley from his position at her thighs.  _

 

_ Wesley (cont’d) _

_ Should I leave? _

 

Fitz ran a hand over his face, then checked to make sure he hadn’t just rubbed away any makeup.

“I, uh, I thought they cut this during the rewrites,” he told Jemma lamely.

“I think they did on one of them, but then they put it back in.” Stretching, Jemma reached her hands far above her head, enough to make the vintage t-shirt for some made up band that only existed in the movie ride up so that Fitz could see a line of pale skin above her denim waistband. 

He swallowed hard and faced forward, deciding it was a better idea to watch the camera crew finish placing all of their gear. But then he watched as one camera was set up just next to the bed and his entire mouth went dry. Picking up his bottle of water again from the arm of his chair, he took a few quick gulps.

Phil came up to Fitz mid gulp to ask, “you guys ready to run through the blocking?”

Jumping to her feet, Jemma gave a quick nod while Fitz coughed through the water that had been halfway down his throat.

“Yep. Yes.”

“Okay.” Coulson led them to the set, a perfect replica of a house they’d shot in on location, or more specifically, Bianca’s bedroom. “I want to do one long tracking shot when you guys first come in all the way through to the bed, but I think we want to do that near the end, get some of the closeups out of the way first.”

Fitz nodded to show that he understood, and he hoped that all of the “closeups” were going to be reaction shots from Jemma because, really, what closeups would they need from him? He listened attentively as Phil gave them instructions for each of the different types of shots, going so far as to lay down on the bed himself to demonstrate where the camera would be in relation to them. Letting out a sigh of relief, Fitz began to relax as he realized this scene wasn’t going to be nearly as complicated as he thought.

Jemma knelt at the food of the bed, beginning to carefully fold the clothing that Bianca had there into neat stacks. At first, Fitz stood and watched curiously, since Wesley had clearly upset her about something, but then he sat down next to her and mimicked her folding style with a tee, setting it on top of her pile.

They repeated the folding part of the scene five more times for different angles and with various starting points, close up shots of his hands, her hands, and slightly different dialogue before actually moving to the bed, the camera next to it following Jemma as she laid down, kicking off her shoes. Fitz stayed just out of frame while she talked.

“Okay, cut. Let’s go back to one at the door.”

Jemma shuffled to the foot of the bed, but Fitz reached down and picked up the shoes before her, handing them to her one at a time so she could slip them back on her feet, and he followed her to the doorway of the set while the camera and the boom were shifted into appropriate places and the pile of laundry at the foot of her bed was messed up in just the right way all over again.

“Are you okay?” Fitz asked Jemma when she shook her shoulders up and down in the doorway, allowing her limbs to go loose.

“Yeah, fine. You?”

They were both trying to keep their “middle American” accents in place as they spoke, and Fitz found it harder to keep up the more lines he had.

“Sure.”

Fitz shoved his hands in his pockets while they waited, neither of them speaking anymore. He’d noticed that they tended to speak less on the days when they shot these scenes, but he’d always thought it would get easier the more movies they did. Apparently, he was wrong. Even filming a sex scene  _ with Jemma _ still felt strange. Having to simulate anything remotely close to sex with her in a room full of other people made him antsy.

“Alright, Jemma, you lead the way. Fitz, when you push her, please don’t knock the lamp over. We don’t have a replacement for it and we’ve already got too many shots in this room to work around it.” Coulson nodded as the color was double and triple checked and the clapper was put in place. “Go!’

Fitz allowed his eyes to trail down Jemma’s back as she led him into the room and made a remark about how small the space was.

“There’s enough room,” Fitz told her with Wesley’s swagger and smirk, feeling a little bit like a dick, just like he was supposed to.

“What-”

But Fitz cut her off with a hand to her waist as he spun her, moving them up against the wall and kissing her deeply.

The kissing was where scenes like this got dangerous, he decided. Kissing Jemma was  _ kissing Jemma _ , no matter what voices they were using or lines they were supposed to say. Kissing her had stopped feeling like playing a role a long time ago, and he struggled to break through the fog of his feelings as he pulled back and said his lines.

“Bianca, can I ask you something?”

“No.” Jemma’s voice came out a little more breathless than Bianca was supposed to be, and Fitz waited. “No,” she repeated more firmly. “I’m not giving you a blowjob. It’s disgusting and degrading and-”

“Okay. Disappointing. But on a completely different level than what I was going to ask about... but okay. That’s… fine.”

“That’s not what - What were you going to ask?”

“What are you escaping from now?” He went as far as to rub his thumb along the skin of her abdomen as he spoke and tuck the hair they’d made a mess of behind her ear. “You said it was your ex. He’s not here anymore.” He gave a wistful sigh for good measure, bringing it home to the audience that the two enemies had plenty of conversations about escaping from their lives up to that point. “As much as I’d like to think you can’t get enough of me, I know that’s not it. What are you running from?”

“Nothing.”

“You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m fine.”

Jemma pushed past him, just in front of the camera, as she straightened her clothing and moved to the pile of laundry at the foot of the bed.

“Perfect. Reset. Go again.”

They did the kiss against the wall too many more times for Fitz’s liking. He could tell by the way Jemma tensed her shoulders in their final three takes that she was getting sore from her back repeatedly hitting the wall, so on their last shot, the long shot that would take them back to the bed, he softened the way he turned and pushed her just enough that one of his palms was flat in the middle of her back to keep her from slamming into the set. Smiling into the kiss as Jemma committed a little more enthusiastically to the part as a result, he allowed the kiss to go on longer than necessary. He was panting when he had to pull back to say his line, but he didn’t care. His breathing and his heart rate had enough time to calm down as they went through the motions of folding her laundry and chatting before she laid back on her bed, toeing her shoes off.

And that was when things got interesting, so to speak.

The camera swiveled to focus on Jemma, and Fitz took his cue, telling her how neurotic (and possibly screwed up) she was for folding her clothes over and over even as he draped himself across her and kissed her again, carefully leaving his weight just to the opposite side of where the camera was stationed.

“Are you trying to get in my pants again? Already? Maybe we’re both a little screwed up.”

“Of course we are,” Fitz agreed, his lips colliding with hers. Phil hadn’t really given them a time frame on how long they were supposed to let things escalate, so he tried to gauge Jemma’s reactions as Bianca the way he would if they were alone and she was just Jemma. The fact that she pulled on his lower lip with her teeth almost immediately, her fingers trailing down his sides to the bottom of his t-shirt right after, let him know that if this was Jemma, she would be more than ready to move faster. She yanked hard on the fabric, and he obliged, removing his shirt and going back to work. Every time he moved his hands, she arched into his touch, so he didn’t let it go on for as long as he would have liked, sitting up enough to bring her with him and pull her t-shirt over her head, his mouth going back to her neck, then moving down her chest as he tossed it away. 

Just at the edge of her bra though, he paused, murmuring against her skin, “your freckles are gone.” Fitz froze in place uncertainly as soon as the words left him. Those freckles were Jemma’s, not her characters. Was that going to be a problem? Someone, he was pretty sure it was the guy on the camera next to them, snickered, and Fitz tilted his head further into Jemma skin to hide his expression.

Jemma grabbed at his shoulders, laughing as she pulled him back over her so she could lean down. “They fade in the winter. I don’t get as much sun.”

No one yelled cut, so he kept going as she relaxed her body, giving a slight arch into him when he kissed along her collarbone. He tried not to cringe at the taste of makeup and moved lower, his mouth skimming along her skin with light pressure, not even really kissing her, until he reached just below her belly button. He let the tip of his tongue run along the skin above the denim of her jeans.

“Wesley,” she groaned.

Fitz hated himself for being jealous of a fictional character. He had to remind himself that he was Wesley.

“You might not be interested in going down on me, but I have a feeling you’ll like this,” he whispered into her skin. The boom was close enough that the mic would pick up his words as he unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down, throwing them somewhere behind him, hoping he didn’t hit a crew member.

The camera had panned back down to him as he kissed the inside of her knee, then slightly higher, moving himself into place. When the camera turned back up to cover Jemma’s reactions, catching her hands clutching at the blanket below her first, Fitz rested his cheek against Jemma’s leg.

He didn’t, technically, have to do anything at this point. But he wanted to give Jemma something to go from, so he applied gentle pressure to her inner thigh with his lips, and she gave a sharp gasp in response, her leg twitching against him. He didn’t want to do anything more than breathe against her in case it gave him away, but he watched her intently as the camera focused on her while she gave a few soft moans. Lifting her head from the pillow underneath her, her eyes locked on his but she squeezed them shut tight before dropping her head down again.

Fitz knew it was all acting, but she looked too much like a turned on Jemma, and he was starting to get distinctly uncomfortable in his position at the bottom of the bed.

When Phil dropped a book to signal the slamming of the car door, Fitz nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Oh, shit!” He hopped up off the bed quickly, but the camera stayed on Jemma. “Should I leave?”

“Cut! Good. Nice touch with the freckle thing. Keep that in when we go again.”

Fitz fought not to smack himself in the forehead at his slip.

They did the scene, with closeups of hands and mouths and clothing being removed, several more times, and by the time they were done, he was sweating. His own makeup had to be retouched more than Jemma’s. When Phil declared them wrapped for the day, Fitz didn’t wait for anything else, just sped to his trailer, conjuring up images of the most unattractive things he could think of along the way, and then traded his costume for his own clothing, willing himself to calm down before he had to step back outside.

The trailer door opened with a creak while he was pacing in the middle of the room, and he spun, ready to tell whoever it was that they shouldn’t just barge in on someone, and that he’d be with them in a minute, but it was Jemma, in the sweatpants and tank top she’d come to work in, scrubbed free of makeup, her hair up in a messy bun on the top of her head. She looked even better than she had on camera - mostly because she was giving him that half amused smile she reserved only for him.

“You didn’t take the edge off first, did you?” She asked him pointedly, locking the door behind her.

“Actually,” Fitz told her, not appreciating her superior attitude, “I did. But we shot for three bloody hours before you went all sex kitten.”

“Sex kitten?” Jemma laughed and took a bounding step toward him. “Really? You thought I was that good?”

Fitz tilted his head to the side and held his hands out, palms up.  _ As if she couldn’t tell exactly what he thought about her performance. _

Glancing down at his waist, Jemma’s laugh turned into a purposeful smirk.

“Right.” She closed the rest of the distance between them, and Fitz had to remember that they might be off the clock, but they were still at work. They’d almost been caught before and they didn’t  _ really _ need to risk it. “If it’s any consolation, I feel the same way. Did you have to get so close? I thought I was going mad.”

“We need to get out of here,” Fitz ground out.

“Both of our apartments are an hour away. Do you really want to wait that long?”

“Good point.”

“Also,” Jemma reminded him, as she reached for the button on his trousers, “I’m not Bianca.”

Fitz was back out of his clothes in record time.

-o-


	4. Chapter 4

_ Zee and Em _

_ -o- _

_ Sex is emotion in motion.  _

_ -Mae West _

-o-

Jemma arched her back, her fingers gripping the fabric beside her, and gave a low moan as Fitz moved above her.

“Cut.”

“Again?” Fitz whispered. 

Jemma chewed nervously on her lip as he sat up on the platform they were filming on. She didn’t bother to move all the way up, certain it was her fault - again. Instead, she just propped herself up on her elbows. She would never again doubt anyone who said Melinda May was a director who knew exactly what she wanted.

“Jemma, you’ve got to be more convincing.”

Jemma made a vague noise that might have been agreement, or it might have been meant to convey how little patience she had left for filming this scene. She just wanted it to be over with. She was tired of everyone looking at her while she was wearing bright blue (and very lacey, which meant itchy) underwear. She was sure Fitz’s arms were getting sore from the number of times he’d had to hold himself above her as their director corrected their form.

“I know that filming a sex scene isn’t the most thrilling, believe me,” Melinda bit out. “But you’ve got to sell it. Just like faking an orgasm with your boyfriend to preserve his ego.”

Fitz turned his head to the side and had a coughing fit while a murmur rose amongst the crew. Some of them were shaking their heads while a few of the women nodded in agreement.

“Excuse me?” Jemma asked, her question causing Melinda to zero in on her completely instead of paying attention to Fitz, who was trying to compose himself near her feet.

“I need you to fake it. The audience needs to believe this is the most mind blowing sex you’ve ever had. They don’t need to know that there’s twenty people in the room with you and Fitz is strapped in to keep everything in check. Look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Jesus,” Fitz muttered under his breath.

“Everyone fakes it.” May proceeded to demonstrate with a few exaggeratedly breathy moans and a loud “Yes!” She didn’t so much as move a muscle in her chair as she did. “Show me you know how.”

“But -” Jemma cut herself off when Fitz looked over at her, an unspoken question in his eyes. 

“Don’t tell me,” one of the producers whose name Jemma couldn’t remember cut in. “Your boyfriend keeps you so happy, you never have to?” She laughed, and some of the women on set joined her as several men looked distinctly uncomfortable. Jemma couldn’t blame them. Her sex life wasn’t exactly something she wanted to talk about with a producer she didn’t even know.

Not used to being at the center of a bad performance, Jemma flopped back down with a scowl, her toes curling in discomfort instead of the reason they usually did when she was in a position like this with Fitz. “Actually, that’s correct,” she snapped, also irritated on Fitz’s behalf, even if no one knew it was him they were talking about. “I haven’t faked anything in a very long time. But I’m perfectly capable of it, thank you very much.” She huffed and sat up, tossing her head to give her hair a bit more of a disheveled appearance and placed her palms down on either side of her. “Where do you want us to start from?”

Melinda shrugged from the bank of monitors. “You guys pick.”

Jemma might have been imagining it, but there was a glint in the director’s eye that could have been amusement. She faced Fitz again instead of the people surrounding them on set and met his wide eyes with her determined ones. He ran a hand down his face and gave a sniff.

“Okay,” Fitz muttered before dropping his hand with a sigh. “Okay.” He eyed Jemma warily. “Where do you -”

Jemma grabbed at his arms and pulled him back down to her, latching her mouth on to his before bringing one knee delicately up along his hip, the classic pose for any woman in a tame-by-Hollywood-standards sex scene. When Fitz moved his mouth to the side of her neck that wasn’t in view of the cameras, she could feel his smile against her skin, and she moaned, the sound a little deeper than it had been in the previous take. When he moved above her again, she arched her back, pressing herself closer to him and tried to imagine this was them instead of anyone in a script. 

She thought her sighs and whispers of “yes,” sounded convincing enough, but Fitz must not have thought so because he, still on the side of her where cameras wouldn’t be able to make out all of his face, placed his lips to her neck and instead of mimicking a love bite as he had been in the last several takes, applied pressure, gently kissing her. Jemma gave an undignified yelp in surprise, and she felt the grin against her again before Fitz sucked at the skin, scraped his teeth along a trio of freckles, and then flicked his tongue against her.

Jemma gasped, not entirely faking her reaction anymore, and tried to pull him closer, as she called out, “please, don’t stop,” only just keeping herself from adding on his name. She didn’t get particularly loud, which was probably what Melinda would have preferred, but she was absolutely certain the shots of the camera on her would look perfect at this point.

A part of her hated that it was a result of Fitz knowing how to get a reaction out of her and not her own performance, but the larger part of her was glad that she was doing this movie with him and not someone else.

“Cut! Better.”

Jemma swallowed hard, taking a deep breath before she looked over at the monitors. A few people were hiding their smiles by paging through copies of the script.

“I need you to be louder on the next take though.”

Jemma didn’t move a muscle in her face, trying to decide how best to react to that instruction.

“Unless you want to do it in ADR in post?”

Jemma sighed and looked up at Fitz who hadn’t moved from his spot above her yet. She met his eyes and glared at the amusement she saw there.

“I can be louder.”

She could see the beginnings of a laugh starting on Fitz’s face with the way he sniffed, scrunching up his nose as he did so, and then bit down his bottom lip firmly. If he said anything about just how loud she could get, she was going to kill him later.

Or maybe, she thought to herself, she’d just make sure to make him squirm a little too. He was, after all, one half of the focus of the scene. She just had to wait until they flipped the camera angle to focus on him.

-o-

Six “cuts!” later, and Jemma sat primly on the edge of the platform - surprisingly comfortable since it was supposed to be sacks of coffee beans - waiting for everything to be reset and for hair and makeup to be fixed. She sipped from a cup of tea, pulling a bathrobe tighter around her shoulders. The heat from the tea probably wasn’t the best thing for her still swollen lips. At least she was hydrating.

“Picture?” May asked one of the camera operators. He gave her a curt nod in return, and May turned to Jemma with a raised eyebrow.

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Jemma handed her tea off to someone with a headset and a clipboard, and untied the belt of her robe as Fitz walked back onto the stage in a robe of his own. He had claimed he had to pee, loudly, and considering how generally grossed out he was by everyone else’s bodily functions on a regular basis, Jemma was sure she wasn’t the only one who doubted that, but everyone was polite enough not to call him on it. Dropping the robe from her shoulders, she passed it off as well and climbed back to the correct position, settling in and waiting for Fitz. 

He shucked his own robe quickly and joined her, his own embarrassment clear at having to be half-dressed in front of a room full of people yet again. Really, he wasn’t even exposing as much skin as she was, but Fitz had always been the more self conscious one. 

“You need to drop the waistband a bit lower,” May snapped from her chair. “If we have skin in the other takes, I need skin in these.”

The blush that graced Fitz’s face made Jemma almost feel badly about what she was going to do to him. Almost.

Knowing that May would have them do at least half a dozen takes to make sure she got everything she could out of them, Jemma waited until three takes were complete and Fitz was beyond the threshold of embarrassment. 

In the fourth take, as the camera panned up the side of them, over Fitz’s tensed arm, and to his face, where his mouth was trailing carefully down the side of her neck, Jemma forced herself to school her features into the perfect model of pleasure as she covertly positioned her leg just - there. Her denim skirt rode up a little higher than necessary, but the camera wasn’t on her legs anyway, so she ignored it. 

As Fitz rocked into her space, his hips abruptly froze at the skin-on-skin contact he hadn’t expected, and he groaned, pressing his forehead into her shoulder. Jemma tugged her bottom lip into her mouth when she saw May nod approvingly.

Well.

At least it helped his performance.

On the next take, she deliberately prolonged their kiss, forcing him to slow down. She could tell he was getting to the point where he just wanted to get the scene over with, but if her reaction shots had to be perfect, then so did his. Pulling her lips from his millimeter by millimeter, she whispered, “ready?”

Bringing her eyes up meet Fitz’s though, she wasn’t prepared for just how unguarded he looked, and all thoughts of trying to get back at him for surprising her on their last set of takes flitted away. 

The irony of this pair of characters having danced around their feelings for years before having them exposed on camera wasn’t entirely lost on her, and she knew that Fitz was playing into that, but he just looked so  _ Fitz _ that she had trouble looking away when he rapidly nodded his head. She sucked in a breath when he moved forward again and tried to let the actor part of her brain take over instead of the girlfriend part.

-o-

Once filming was complete for the day, the girlfriend part of Jemma’s brain was rapidly winning out though. She clenched her teeth and crossed her legs as yet another reporter sat down in front of them for an on-set visit.

Still in the short skirt from their shoot earlier in the day, Jemma pulled at it in an effort to cover a bit more of her thighs as the woman in front of them, Betty something or other, flashed her biggest smile in Fitz’s direction and barely glanced at Jemma. The camera guy behind her made Jemma just keep herself from rolling her eyes as Betty threw her head back and laughed when Fitz joked about this particular shoot leaving them both feeling more exposed than usual.

“So, what made you guys take on these roles? Sex comedies aren’t usually your thing, right?”

Betty still didn’t take her eyes off Fitz, so Jemma sat there, hands in her lap, and waited for him to answer.

“I always play the good guy, and my character here is kind of a jerk… I mean, he’s still a regular guy, but he’s sexist, he’s rude, he’s jealous. I just thought it would be fun to do something different.” Fitz paused, and Jemma was sure he had glanced in her direction to see if she had anything to add, but Betty was still watching him expectantly, so Jemma didn’t say anything. “There - erm - wasn’t quite as much sex in it when I first read the script. But Jemma and I are the only ones, I think, who don’t have to get completely naked, which is a plus.”

Jemma made a noise of agreement and wondered just how long this interview would go before the reporter at least acknowledged that she existed.

“Jemma?” Fitz prompted when neither of the women said anything.

“Oh, you know, I recently played a high school student, which is still very funny to me. I thought this role seemed like a more adult venture. Though, to be honest, I probably wouldn’t have even looked at the script if Fitz hadn’t told me how funny it was.”

“Oh?” Betty finally turned to her, eyes wide.

“Yes.”

“Fitz brought the script to you?”

“Yes... We share a lot of scripts, give each other feedback for auditions and things like that. He has a great eye for projects.” Jemma gave a nonchalant shrug before realizing she’d never openly admitted in an interview that she went after roles because Fitz recommended them to her. 

Was that strange? Friends in the industry shared interesting scripts all the time, didn’t they? She was sure they did.

“So does she,” Fitz enthused. “I actually just got a call for a project this week that Jemma suggested for me. I’ll finally get to stop playing an American for a while.”

“That’ll be a relief,” Jemma agreed, again without thinking too much about her response. “It feels more natural when you get to use your own voice, doesn’t it? I can’t wait to be English again,” she joked. “Though the costumes for that one will take some getting used to.”

“Oh, are you two doing another movie together then?”

Jemma turned her eyes back on Betty, smile freezing on her face when she saw the calculated smirk the reporter was aiming at Fitz.

“Yeah. What can I say? Jemma’s always amazin’ to work with.” 

“So are you,” Jemma agreed softly, trying to maintain her polite expression as the reporter still insisted on only speaking to Fitz.

“Like a modern day Mickey and Judy, eh?”

“Sure,” Fitz responded carefully, “just no musicals.” He shifted in his seat and Jemma held in her surprise when he leaned one elbow on the arm of her chair instead of his own. “I don’t mind the singing, but dancing isn’t for me.”

“You know, Judy admitted in interviews as an adult that she thought she was madly in love with Mickey after doing so many films with him as a teenager - but he was never interested in anything more than friendship.” Betty blinked twice before smiling at Jemma like a cat that ate the canary.

Jemma wasn’t entirely sure what scoop the reporter thought she was looking for. Did she want Jemma to say that she had a crush? Or maybe that Fitz had rejected her? Would someone just say that during an interview? Or was she fishing to find out if they were secretly married like that one tabloid had speculated about the week before when they were photographed leaving set together?

Instead of addressing the odd statement, Jemma laughed lightly before settling for saying, “I guess that’s why there’s so much fraternizing on the sets of those teen shows. Everyone dates everyone.”

“Teenage hormones,” Fitz added, nodding his head when Jemma raised her eyebrows at him.

“Did you date your costars on  _ The Academy _ ?” She pressed her side against the arm he rested on her chair, hoping he’d understand this was just banter for an interview and not her fishing for information about the one television series he’d guest starred in for six episodes before they had even met.

“A lad never kisses and tells,” Fitz teased, going for mysterious, tapping her forearm with his fingers.

“Oh, so you did,” Betty encouraged, but Jemma was too busy running through the cast members Fitz would have worked with to pay attention to her. 

Fitz shrugged, then jokingly remarked, “how much longer is this interview?”

The tip of his finger was still tapping her forearm when Jemma pursed her lips, realizing who it must have been given the ages of those involved.

“I can’t believe you never told me you dated Sharon,” Jemma blurted. “I love her.” She shook her head. “You know I based my take on Maid Marian on that princess she played? She’s so great.”

“Well, I mean, I don’t - that is - I don’t know if I’d call it dating exactly.” Fitz shrugged helplessly and he was pink to the tips of his ears, scratching the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with this line of talk. “We just hung out on set, played video games, went to a couple of parties together.”

Reading between the lines, Jemma was pretty certain they’d made out when Sharon kicked his butt at video games and snuck into parties that the older cast members were supposed to be attending. That seemed like the kind of teenage years Fitz would have had in between stammering out “nice to meet yous” and auditioning for roles with people who had intimidated him, especially with Sharon, who could pull anyone out of their shell. Fitz had told her stories about auditions he’d been on where he walked in the room, apologized profusely, and walked back out before even uttering a single line from a script.

“That’s cute,” she told him with a soft smile. Sharon Carter was a catch, and now, she had her own movie studio. Jemma expected a twinge of jealousy, but she liked Sharon too much for that. Besides, that was back when Fitz was 14. She had definitely done worse things at 14 than “date” a co-star.

Again, Fitz shrugged.

“What about you, Jemma,” Betty cut in. “Do you find it’s easier to date co-stars?”

“Easier? As opposed to dating someone you’ve never worked with?” She uncrossed and crossed her legs again, pretending to think about it. “I suppose so. After all, you get to know your costars very well, spending 20-hour days together sometimes. It’s definitely easier to do the scenes we’ve been doing with someone you trust implicitly.” She shrugged. “I don’t really make a habit of dating co-stars though,” she hedged, which was true. 

Other than Fitz, she never really had. So there hadn’t been multiple costars. Then again, she really didn’t even have as many co-stars as she had projects with Fitz, did she? Well, that was ridiculous. She’d done dozens of movies over the years. Of course she’d worked with more people than just Fitz. She’d just never been interested in more than going to premieres with them. No one had ever fascinated her as much as Fitz, who had always been a bit of a mystery. Standoffish when the cameras weren’t rolling, but able to completely slip into someone else’s skin the moment someone yelled “action,” it had taken her a very long time to get to know the real Fitz. She didn’t have the energy to devote to getting to know anyone else when she spent so much time dissecting what his words meant, and whether or not he’d actually meant to hold the door for her, or when she told him how she liked her tea. Without realizing it, she’d started to smile - not the gritted teeth, forced smile she gave for the initial interview, but one that wouldn’t be stopped, where the corners of her mouth upticked all on their own and her eyes went soft. It was the kind of smile that prompted a, “what’s that for?” from Fitz though, startling her out of her thoughts.

“There was one. Co-star, I mean,” Jemma explained, the smile still on her face. “I won’t tell you who because I don’t think he’s ever told anyone,” she added, much to Betty’s obvious disappointment. “I imagine he values his privacy as much as I do,” she continued, making sure she didn’t look in Fitz’s direction, afraid she might give herself away. “But he’s certainly the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. So, maybe there’s something to it - dating co-stars, I mean.”

“Why’d you break up?”

“We didn’t.”

“That’s all we have time for Betsy, there’s another outlet on their way in,” a PA said from behind Jemma, effectively halting the line of questioning.

“You do realize,” Fitz whispered to her once Betsy and her digital recorder were gone and another reporter was talking to the PA, “that we’re going to get a gossip write-up now instead of a movie blurb.”

Jemma shrugged. “Probably.”

“I thought you wanted to keep this private.”

“I did. I do. She just -” Jemma groaned in frustration. “I don’t like her. She’s so smug. She acts like she already knows the answers she’s going to get. Besides, nothing we told her is of any value. Who cares who you played video games with 15 years ago or that dating within the workplace is easier?”

-o-

Fitz showed Jemma the article the next morning.

“Oh, I guess they don’t care who you played video games with then, do they?”

There, on the screen of his tablet, was a handy infographic showing every man and woman Jemma had ever shared significant screentime with.

“I appreciate the fact that they think I might have dated Bobbi. She is amazing. I should be so lucky. But I did say ‘boyfriend.’ Did she think I was trying to throw her off?” Jemma giggled a little, then quickly sobered up when she remembered that there were people in Hollywood who did that very thing out of fear of not getting work. 

“I’m glad you find this so amusing. They’ve ranked the probability of who you’re sleeping with there. Check out the top five.”

He grabbed the spoon out of Jemma’s yogurt and grabbed a bite for himself.

“You’re ranked third? But that’s preposterous. I would think, mathematically speaking, they’d have made you the most likely option. We have logged the most screentime together.” She scrolled quickly, then laughed at the top two spots. “Hunter? Really? I was in one music video for his band!”

“Apparently, you’ve been spotted at his shows more than you’ve been seen out with anyone else on the list.”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “Only because Bobbi dragged me to them.”

“They don’t know that.” Fitz jabbed the spoon at her. “Though, the number one spot is impressive.”

“Grant Ward?” Jemma gave something of a snort at the idea of dating the frequent action star. 

“You two did have great chemistry in that movie you did where you had to save the world from an alien virus.”

Jemma wrinkled her nose, not wanting to ruin Fitz’s perception of his acting idol. “Well, chemistry can be faked… to an extent.” She paused to consider the article’s reasoning. “I’ve never even been seen in public with him. It’s not as though we spent any time together other than those two weeks training for stunt sequences. It’s just because he’s popular in Hollywood right now.”

Jemma was getting so tired of the assumptions made about her love life, she was tempted to call up the editor and set them straight herself, but instead, she gave Fitz a kiss on the cheek as he scowled at the screen and ate another bite of yogurt.

“What was that for?”

“The list doesn’t matter.”

“I know.”

He shrugged, passing her yogurt back over to her. She knew he wouldn’t say it bothered him, but she also knew that it really did. For a moment, she considered the idea of just telling everyone they knew that they were dating, but she also knew part of the reason they’d both kept quiet without ever really meaning to was the scrutiny that came with a public relationship.

“I love you, you know?” She nudged him with her elbow until he smiled.

“I know.” He leaned over and gave her a proper kiss instead of the peck she’d landed on his cheek. “You’re going to make us late for work,” he added before kissing her again.

“They can wait.”

-o- 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize it's been six months since a chapter went up. Apologies, but real life has been very hectic. The good news? The next chapter is pretty much done as well. I hope you enjoyed this if you're still reading!


	5. Chapter 5

_ Jamie and Claire _

_ -o- _

_ “For where all love is, the speaking is unnecessary _ _.” _

_ -Diana Gabaldon _

-o-

Fitz started to run a hand through his hair, belatedly remembering that the weight on his head was a wig, and dropped his hand to the side before he ended up needing someone to fix it for him. Looking up at the sky overhead, he watched a few clouds start to roll in, and he hoped they could get the scene over and done with before the rains came. He might have had a lot of experience filming under a downpour at this point, but he didn’t exactly relish it. Scenes like this were awkward enough without the added rainstorm.

Jemma trudged up next to him, her skirts held slightly above the grass. She allowed them to drop with a yawn.

“Jus’ another hour,” he reminded her.

“I know.” 

Normally, she would probably sigh, ask a PA for a cup of tea, or even jump up and down to wake herself up. Fitz had been surprised when he learned she did that on a particularly late night on the miniseries they were currently involved in. It felt like he’d been filming with her all his life, and there was still so much more to learn. 

But at the tail end of a 16 hour shoot, she linked her arm through his and leaned her head on his shoulder, waiting for instructions, not batting an eye when a few members of the crew did a double take.

Fitz tried to stand up straight and act like it was perfectly normal for Jemma to be leaning most of her weight, and the weight of her costume, on him in the middle of a location shoot. He couldn’t remember her ever having done it before, but it wasn’t like they weren’t  _ friends _ or anything in front of everyone.

“All right? Let’s run through your blocking really quick before we lose the sun.” Holden, his clothing rumpled and his sunglasses perched on the top of his head, raced toward them while the final angles were marked for cameras and makeup artists moved out of the way. 

He grabbed Jemma’s arm, wrenching her away from Fitz as he led her to the trees that would frame the sunlight in just the right way. Fitz didn’t particularly like his hands-on approach to directing, but he did have a good eye. He liked his hands-on approach to directing even less when Holden was helping him position his arms just so on Jemma’s waist to make sure there was sunlight peeking through the gaps between them. Holden was all about light and creating interesting pictures. Fitz just wanted to get it over with without Holden standing behind one of them and  _ shifting their angles _ .

“Could we maybe just… try it on our own?” Jemma finally asked him in a small voice, looking at Fitz instead of their director.

Fitz nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I think we understand what you mean now.”

“Good. Great.” Holden clapped his hands together and moved a respectful distance away, looking around as if making sure everything was in line. He nodded his hand, then moved to a bank of monitors, placing headphones over his ears, and gesturing for them to begin. “We’ll let cameras roll on this. Feel free to improvise.”

Fitz snorted at the prompt to improvise. Jemma elbowed him in the side, and he quickly straightened up, clearing his throat and forcing the muscles in his face to smooth out and not laugh. Did the director really think they were going to improvise much in a sex scene? There were only a handful of lines in it as it was.

The two of them moved into their starting positions, making sure neither of their costumes were damp from the grass, and waited for Holden to signal them that they should begin.

“Oh, right. Yes. Action.”

Fitz only just held himself back from rolling his eyes as Jemma smiled at him, and he surged forward to capture her lips in what he hoped was an appropriately searing kiss. She seemed to think it was, Fitz was sure, since she went up on her toes in the handmade boots she was wearing to slant her mouth more firmly against his and crowd into his space, her hands gripping his long sleeves, fingers wrapping the fabric around them. He kissed her for the requisite 10 beats Holden had instructed to get the right amount of light before easing her back, right into what would be the edge of the camera frame, before they both “tumbled” to the ground.

Jemma’s hair spread out behind her on the ground below him, and he looked her over when they broke apart. She looked like she belonged on the cover of a cheesy romance novel with her bodice cutting into her chest and her cheeks properly pink. Fitz felt a little proud of himself, even if it was just supposed to be acting.

They were both panting as he unlaced her bodice quickly. Luckily for him, the costume department had made it relatively easy to unravel, otherwise the scene would have ended up being fifteen minutes of him trying to figure out her clothes. His fingers were soon pushing her stays open and finding exposed skin as he kissed her, and he felt the breath Jemma sucked in when the air hit her. He knew she could get self conscious when there was any skin exposed on camera, even if the fabric was kept carefully in the correct place to appease the censors, so he set out to distract her and put her back in the scene, moving his mouth to her neck, down to her breastbone, carefully blocking too much from being visible to anyone else, as his hand moved to her skirts, going through the motions of pushing them aside and lining their hips up.

But of course, there were just too many bloody layers of fabric because this episode of the miniseries was set in the Scottish winter, and he fumbled slightly with the linens and wools. Jemma covered his fumble by grabbing his hand and lacing their fingers together with a soft sigh. 

She always had been able to read him well, even before they started dating.

“Reset,” Holden chirped from his seat, but he didn’t give any further explanation when Fitz looked up at him for a reason why.

Fitz sighed and climbed to his feet, brushing off his knees before holding out a hand to help Jemma to her feet. For her part, Jemma used one hand to close her stays as he pulled her up, and turned away from the crew to secure them back in place with the assistance of a woman from wardrobe. Fitz could tell that she, too, was awaiting further instruction, but Holden seemed to be at a loss for what to tell them.

“Do it again. From the top. Just… more?”

-o-

“Do it again,” Fitz muttered under his breath later, affecting an even thicker accent than his own while sitting on a sofa in Jemma’s trailer. 

“But more,” Jemma finished for him with an eyeroll before plopping down next to him and bending to pull her shoes on. “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know, but if I hear it one more bloody time, I’m going to throw the clapper at him.”

“Yeah, well, you do that and they’ll kill you off or something.”

“They can’t. We’re the main characters.”

Jemma laughed lightly, sitting up and curling into his side. “Do you think anyone would notice if I just slept here instead of heading back to the hotel?”

“I’d notice.” As he draped his arm around her, he meant it as a joke, but he definitely would. Their rooms in the hotel they were in for the duration of the shoot were adjoining and they’d only put one to use the entire time they’d been working on the show. In fact, Fitz realized while absently trailing his fingers up and down her arm, that had happened on their last three projects, and when back in Los Angeles, they usually spent all of their time at his house instead of hers.

“You could stay too.”

“I’m sure the P.A.s would love tha’.”

“We’d have to be up before they came looking for us…”

“Right.” Fitz bit down on his tongue to stop himself from saying that he’d rather that the entire world knew instead of having to keep sneaking around on a set. He was tired of watching her play coy in interviews when asked who she was dating. He was also tired of fending off questions about his own love life during press days. The latest rumor was that he was gay and that was why he always attended events with co-stars. The idea itself didn’t bother him as much as the constant feeling like he was being watched every time he went anywhere - photographers were trying to catch him with his latest hidden romance.

Sighing, he leaned back further into the cushion and closed his eyes.

“You all right?”

He didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Jemma was looking up at him with that slight crinkle to her forehead, lips turned down just enough to show concern.

“Mmm.”

“You sure?”

“‘Course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Jemma let the subject drop when his eyes popped open, but he could see the question lingering there. Not wanting her to worry about him, he disentangled himself from her before forcing himself to his feet and reaching out a hand to pull her from the couch so they could leave for the day.

She gave a whine at the thought of getting up, but Fitz just smiled at her.

“Come on,” he goaded, “Room service is on me when we get back. Anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

Her fingers gripped his hand as he pulled, and he kept right on pulling until she was alongside him as they left the trailer.

“What if I order something that’s just massive amounts of vegetables?”

“Sure.”

“And gluten free pasta.”

“That’s fine.”

Fitz knew it was coming as they made their way down the steps and to the car he hired for their time in the UK, but it still made him pause when she added her next item.

“And a gluten and sugar free dessert, of course.”

“If there’s no sugar, it’s not a dessert.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Just because I love you doesn’t mean I won’t make you walk back to the hotel.”

Three seconds into Jemma’s laughter, he realized Holden Radcliffe was watching them from four spaces over in the lot, and Fitz cleared his throat awkwardly, giving him a wave. Jemma’s laughter halted immediately and she glanced over her shoulder. Fitz expected her to make a joke of what he said, or even look the slightest bit uncomfortable, but she just waved as well.

“Have a good night, Holden! See you tomorrow,” she chirped before climbing into the car.

“Do you think he heard me?” Fitz wondered once they’d begun driving.

When she didn’t answer him, Fitz glanced over at her and raised an eyebrow. Jemma shrugged in response.

“Doesn’t matter,” she told him swiftly before leaning over and giving him a quick kiss. He hastily turned his attention back to the road before she tried to kiss him again and distracted him completely. 

Fitz didn’t dwell on whether that meant Jemma wanted to start telling people, or if it was just her way of ignoring the possibility of yet another rumor spreading. Instead, he listened to her as she began listing off their Netflix options for the night before she moved on to detailing the pile of scripts she’d received from her manager.

Fitz groaned.

“What?”

“No script talk.”

“I’m supposed to let her know if I’m interested in any by this weekend!”

“Tha’ is two days away,” Fitz, always ready to procrastinate when he was able, pointed out to her as he pulled the car alongside the hotel.

“Ugh. I haven’t even looked at them all yet.”

When Fitz cut the engine and turned to look at her though, she was still leaning back in the seat, smiling at him fondly. He pouted slightly in response.

“Fine. You help me look through scripts tomorrow, and agree to a healthy dessert option, and everything else is up to you tonight.”

“Burgers, beer, a shower, and I get to put off reading scripts? All I have to do is let you get a piece of cardboard for dessert? Excellent.”

He kissed her before she could protest his use of the word “cardboard,” and then hopped out of the car.

-o-

In hair and makeup the next day, they both knew something was off. There were whispers going on behind hands that stopped when they entered the trailer. There were PAs who dashed around them with smirks on their faces while dropping off cups of coffee and tea. There was also plenty of snickering. Usually these things meant a prank was afoot, but with seemingly no one being targeted, Fitz wasn’t entirely sure what it could be. Fitz could tell Jemma was eager to ask about the morning gossip, but stopped when someone looked at her, then at Fitz, and raised their eyebrows at the makeup girls before walking out.

“Did we do something?” Jemma whispered to him, low enough that nobody could hear her. It also meant she leaned close enough to him that her lips grazed his earlobe, making him suppress a shiver, and causing one of the members of the makeup team to beam at him. 

He shrugged in response.

“Not that I know of.”

Furrowing his brow, Fitz sat down in his chair and sipped at his cup of tea, waiting for someone to start working on his face. It was only when Jemma opened up her social media apps on her phone and began reading through comments that she gave a soft, “Oh,” before plopping down in the chair next to him and worrying her lower lip between her teeth that Fitz became concerned.

“Wha’ is it?” He asked the question just as a sponge was produced and dabbed across his skin to give him an even complexion.

“Erm, it’s nothing really. It’s not a big deal. It’s just - it seems that -”

Her stammering was starting to unnerve him, so he reached out to take the phone from her to see what was going on. 

There on the screen in hundreds of tweets was a grainy image, probably from someone’s cell phone, of the back of their rental car at the hotel, him leaning across the front seat, lips pressed to hers.

“Ah.”

He handed the phone back to her without saying anything else.

“Ah? That’s it?” Jemma locked her phone screen, holding it in her lap so tightly that the tips of her fingers were white.

“Well… there isn’t really anything we can do about it, so-”

Fitz was forced to close his mouth as the makeup sponge was worked under his nose and over his chin. 

“Yes, I suppose so.”

Jemma was still nervously swinging her feet in the chair, constantly changing her position to get more comfortable, when Fitz was able to speak again.

“Let people think what they want, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jemma gave a sigh and graced him with a genuine smile. 

-o-


End file.
